Firsts
by Nuuhtella
Summary: A sad story about the firsts George encountered after Fred's death.


Written for the QLFC Season 6 - Round 5

Chuddley Canons - Captain

Prompt: Use the title of a story written by your Keeper for inspiration.  
[Keeper is insertcleverandwittytitlehere and title used is 'Firsts']

 **Word Count:** 2,997

* * *

 _The air was filled with a green smoke and it smelt like a mixture of fish and rotten egg. It was the crack of dawn and the twins had gotten up especially early in order to continue their experiments. They were attempting to create a range of sweets that would be perfect for getting you out of a class. However, they had been encountering problems. They had almost perfected their Fainting Fancies but the Puking Pastilles were giving them a lot of trouble._

 _"Maybe we could try adding slugs again?" said Fred._

 _"We did that with batch thirty-seven. We were scraping slug out of the carpet for a week," said George._

 _"Yeah, but we haven't tried it in conjunction with goosegrass yet!"_

 _"True. Go on then."_

 _Fred grinned at George before delicately picking up the goosegrass. George watched as Fred ripped it to shreds and cautiously dropping it into the cauldron. As soon as it hit the surface, the liquid turned a greenish-yellow colour. George grinned at his twin as he pulled two slugs from the jar. He passed one to Fred and the two of them held the slugs above the cauldron._

 _"Ready?" said George._

 _Fred pulled his protection goggles over his face._

 _"Ready."_

 _"Alright, release on three. One... two... THREE!"_

 _They let the slugs fall into the potion and, for a moment, everything seemed fine. They let out a sigh of relief in perfect unison and moved a little closer to the cauldron._

 _BANG!_

 _The potion exploded and the two of them were blasted off their feet. George found himself squashed against the door. He was in pain but could tell that it was nothing too serious. George began to sit up and could hear Fred groaning alongside him. As he sat up, he caught his brother's eye. For a moment they stared at each other._

 _"Well," said Fred. "That went well."_

 _The two of them dissolved into laughter and it was a long time before they were able to stop. They looked around at the devastation and began to repair the room._

 _"Y'know," said George. "I know this seems like a bit of a set-back but I really think this is going to work, Freddie."_

 _"Me too, Georgie," said Fred._

 _"No, seriously though. We're gonna be rich. What're you going to do with all that money?"_

 _"Nothing."_

 _"Nothing?" said George._

 _"Nothing," Fred repeated._

 _George turned to look at his brother._

 _"What are you talking about? You've always had some mad plans for the money we make. What's changed?"_

 _"You know what's changed."_

 _"Uh, no I don't."_

 _"Yes, you do."_

 _Suddenly, the room turned pitch black. Fred had turned pale his flesh had begun to rot._

 _"I have no plans because I'm dead."_

The rain hammering against the windows were what woke him from the nightmare. George sat up straight, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat. After a few minutes, he realised that he was crying. It was too much effort to wipe the tears away so he simply sat there, not having the energy to move.

He wasn't sure how much time passed. He looked at the calendar he had pinned up at the side of his bed and crossed off another box. It was day thirty-two. It had officially been one month without his brother. It was the first month in their entire lives that they had ever been apart. He couldn't bring himself to feel anything. Everything was black and empty.

It suddenly dawned on George that it was raining. He knew that it was raining, it was what had woken him, but he hadn't fully comprehended it. George walked over to the window and flung it open. He stood for a while, just staring at the rain. Hot tears began to roll down his cheeks. They didn't bother him. He couldn't stop them regardless.

This was the first rainfall without him.

And he felt the loss all over again.

~N~

It was day fifty-seven and his mother was in the flat. She had arrived early that morning after he had cancelled dinner for the fifth time in a row the day before. George had considered just not letting her in but had no energy to lose a fight. He had plonked himself down onto the sofa and turned on the television for the first time in months.

Molly bustled about the flat, chatting away to him as she cleaned and cooked. Half of it was her scolding him for the state of the place and the other half was conveying news about their loved ones. George didn't hear any of it. He just wasn't interested.

"There," said Molly.

She had placed a huge fry-up in front of him; three pieces of bacon, three eggs, four sausages, baked beans, mushrooms, two tomatoes, two slices of fried bread, and five hash browns. He looked at it with no desire. He just wasn't hungry. He hadn't been hungry in weeks.

"No thanks," said George, pushing the plate away.

His mother's demeanour instantly changed and George knew that he was in trouble. Molly glared down at him with both hands on her hips.

"George Fabian Weasley," said Molly, her voice trembling. "You will eat this breakfast and you will eat it _now_! You are fading away in front of me and I won't let that happen. I won't lose another son!"

Her voice broke on the last word and she immediately turned and stormed back into the kitchen. George looked after her, consumed by some form of emotion. He couldn't imagine losing another sibling, let alone a child. He felt frustrated but, mostly, he felt devastated. Devastated for himself, devastated for his family, and devastated for her.

George quietly got up from the sofa and followed his mother into the kitchen. She was clutching the sideboard with her head bowed, silently crying into her chest. George walked over to her and pulled his mother into his arms. The two of them wept together, just standing there in that tiny kitchen. Molly was clutching him so hard that George thought she was attempting to keep him safe.

He kissed the top of her head before pulling away. Molly looked up at him with a watery smile before wiping her eyes on her flowery apron.

"Alright, enough of that, m'boy. Go and eat your breakfast."

"Yes, mum,"

He walked back into the living room and grabbed his plate and took it over to the dining table. George had heard his mother's gasp behind him and knew exactly the cause. It was the first time he had called her ' _mum'_ since Fred had died. Before this, he just hadn't been able to acknowledge it.

Things were looking up.

But he still felt the loss all over again.

And yet, this time, it didn't hurt as much.

~N~

It was day sixty-two. It had been a mere five days since he'd seen his mother. And yet, each of those five days had felt like an eternity. That day had been a glimmer of hope. He'd actually felt something for the first time in months. But he'd just gone back to being empty.

It was midday. George thought that he should probably eat something soon but just didn't have the energy. His father and Bill had been stopping by for lunch when they could and so he was forced to eat. But, in general, George wasn't interested in much at all.

There was a knock on the front door. At first, George thought that he must have imagined it. Nobody was expected today. Neither Bill or his father were able to make it round and, as far as he knew, no-one else had said that they were stopping by. Just as George had decided that the knock had been a figment of his imagination, the person knocked again but this time far more aggressively.

"Let me in NOW you utter prat!" said Ginny.

George got up and let her in. As soon as he opened the door, Ginny marched right past him into the living room. She turned back to face him with her hands on her hips and a stern expression which could rival their mother's.

"Right," said Ginny. "We're going out. Get dressed."

"I'm too tired today, Ginny. Maybe some other time."

"No."

"What the hell do you mean 'no'?"

"I said no."

"And I said that I don't want to go out."

"And I said that I don't care," said Ginny. "Now, get dressed."

She had such a Molly Weasley-ish determination about her that he knew it would be pointless to argue. George scowled at her before heading into his bedroom and slamming the door behind him. He grabbed the first clothes he could feel in his wardrobe and pulled them on as quickly as possible. He put on a pair of old trainers and donned a jacket. George then walked back out to the living room only to find it empty.

He looked around, confused. It was then that he noticed that a door was open. _The_ door was open. The door that hadn't been touched in months. The door that he had intended never to open again.

George strode over to the door pushed it fully open. He had used such force that the door banged against the side of the wall upon impact. Ginny was sitting on the bed, reading a book she had found. Ginny looked up at George as he entered the room, her eyes glistening with tears.

"This is amazing," said Ginny, indicating the book. "The ideas in here... they're inspired! They have you and Fred written all over them. How do you think this stuff up? It's just... wow."

"Get. Out," said George.

"What?"

"I said get out... NOW!"

"What the hell is your problem?"

"My problem is the fact that YOU have taken it upon yourself to come to MY HOUSE. FORCE yourself over the threshold and then go places you have NO RIGHT to be."

George was yelling. He couldn't stop. And yet, Ginny continued to sit there, calm as ever. She could take him down easily and yet she hadn't even reached for her wand. In fact, her expression was just so understanding. And that just made George angry.

"THIS ROOM WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE OPENED. THIS ROOM WAS SUPPOSED TO BE LEFT ALONE, EXACTLY THE WAY IT WAS. YOU THINK THAT YOU CAN JUST WALTZ IN AND- AND DO WHAT YOU WANT?" He was breathing heavily now. "Nobody was supposed to come in here..."

George sunk to his knees and began to sob. He'd cried before but never like this. It was as though all of the grief and sadness he had been bottling up were finally being released. George felt Ginny place her arms around him and they sat there like that for a long time. She held him while he cried until, finally, he could cry no more.

"I'm sorry," said George.

"You've nothing to be sorry for you idiot," said Ginny, smiling.

"Yes, I do. I shouted at you for no reason. I was a complete dick."

"No you weren't. It's okay."

"It's not okay! I shouldn't have treated you like..."

"George, listen to me. It _is_ okay. Do not feel guilty about this. I understand. I love you."

"I love you too."

"Lunch?" said Ginny.

"Go on then," said George.

And he felt the loss all over again.

But it hurt just that little bit less.

~N~

It was day one hundred and ninety-four. Only twelve days ago it had been the sixth month anniversary of his brother's death. He had marked the occasion with his brother Charlie, Lee Jordan, and a bottle of Firewhisky. It had been a good night.

He rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom to take a shower. After that, George brushed his teeth before having a quick shave. As he had been doing every morning for the past three months, George then pointed his wand in the direction of the kitchen and turned the kettle on. He got dressed, made his bed, and walked into the kitchen to have his usual morning cup of tea with breakfast.

When breakfast was done, George donned his jacket and grabbed his wand, wallet and keys before heading out of the door. He walked down the stairs and used the side door to exit the building into a small alleyway. He quickly made his way towards the main street in Diagon Alley, bypassing the shop entirely.

The shop had only been re-open for around two months but George still hadn't been able to step foot inside. He'd finally re-opened it because everyone told him that it was what Fred would have wanted. And they were right.

His family had been helping to run the shop for him. His dad, Bill, and Charlie would all help out whenever they got the chance. His mother and Fleur just did not have the time. This was understandable as Fleur had recently found out that she was pregnant. Ron, Harry and Ginny helped out as often as they could but Ginny could only help in the school holidays and Ron and Harry were both busy training to be Auror's. They'd brought Hermione to help once but she ended up scolding a few of the customers for loitering.

In fact, and most surprisingly, it was Percy who had been the most help. Without fail, he was in that shop every single day. He opened and closed it. Jokes had never been Percy's thing and yet, there he was, working in a business he had no idea about. In truth, George was touched.

It was odd but Percy had been the brother he had become closest to throughout this entire ordeal. George had hated Percy for years, until that day. That day he had shown that he truly was a Gryffindor and, more importantly, truly was a Weasley. They had a lot of issues to sort out, but George found that their shared grief had brought them together.

Around midday, George decided to head home for some lunch. He decided that he fancied a cheese and pickle sandwich. As he walked home, the shop came into view. There wasn't much he could do about it so he merely avoided looking at it as much as possible. George was proud of what they had achieved but it still hurt to look at the business he had created with Fred.

It was then, as he neared the building, that he saw the flames. George sprinted towards the shop. Several people on the street outside were looking at the flames in horror but he couldn't see Percy amongst them. Without a care, George flung himself into the shop with his wand drawn. Percy and several of the staff were in the middle of the room attempting to put the fire out.

"GEORGE!" Percy yelled as soon as he saw him. "RUN!"

George ignored his brother and began to cast Aguamenti but it wasn't working. Out of the corner of his eye, George saw one of the newer products on a shelf. He grabbed the water bomb and threw it up into the air. It burst as it hit the floor and a huge wave drenched the entire shop. The fire was put out immediately although the shop became flooded.

"Bloody hell," said George. "What happened here then?"

"I- I'm sorry," said Percy.

George walked over to Percy and pulled him into a hug.

"Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you're okay."

"Me too."

They pulled away and Percy gave George a confused look.

"You're in the shop," said Percy.

George looked around.

"So I am," said George.

Percy grinned and pulled George back into a hug.

"Welcome back," said Percy.

"Yeah, yeah," said George.

And, again, he felt Fred's loss.

But it hurt a lot less.

~N~

It was day three hundred and sixty-five. The day had finally arrived. It was the one year anniversary of his brother's death. The first year he had lived in this world without his twin being in it. And it was painful.

George had come to visit his brother's grave. He'd brought a few of the joke items they had thought up together as a tribute. He thought it would be fitting.

And so there he was, kneeling atop the dirt his brother was buried under. Beside the gravestone were bunches of flowers, bottles of Butterbeer and Firewhisky, cards, and even some bags of sweets which had already been left by other members of his family. He could've come with them but he'd wanted to do this alone. They understood. He knelt beside that grave and he wept.

"George?" said a voice from behind him.

He looked up to see Angelina Johnsons standing there, holding an extremely colourful bunch of flowers.

"It is you," said Angelina. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I just wanted to leave these."

She indicated the flowers but he still was unable to speak.

"Alright," said Angelina. "I'm just going to put these here." She placed them on the ground. "I'm so sorry to disturb you. See you around, hopefully."

Angelina turned and began to walk away. George found himself springing to his feet and bounding after her. He caught up to her just as she reached the gate. Her surprised expression said it all.

"So," said George. "You said 'see you around'. I'm assuming that means that you'd be open to hanging out sometime?"

"Of course," said Angelina, smiling her beautiful smile at him.

"Great. Maybe we could make a thing of it. Have a Quidditch team meet up or something."

"I'd like that."

"Well good."

They smiled awkwardly at each other for a few moments.

"Alright then, I'd better head off," said Angelina.

"No, yeah, of course," said George.

"Bye."

"Bye."

George watched her walk away. For the first time since Fred's death, George knew something with absolute certainty.

Things would, eventually, get better.


End file.
